


Unwrap Me

by sbrant



Series: Beg [3]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blindfolds, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Fucking, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light BDSM, Marriage Proposal, Sex, absolute horny mayhem: holiday edition, the ending is incredibly fluffy and romantic roll with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21645862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbrant/pseuds/sbrant
Summary: The reader distracts Bill from decorating their apartment for the holiday season.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Reader
Series: Beg [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1379854
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Unwrap Me

These types of encounters tend to stretch on for a while, the two of them so caught up in one another that they could care less about anything else, and that's exactly the way they like it. Especially Bill, considering the fact that he tends to like to take his time with her when they can and today has presented the perfect opportunity.

It all started when she and Bev were shopping for the holidays last week to find all of their friends meaningful gifts when she got an idea. She had already picked out his gifts a while back, but when they were wandering from store to store and she was buying what she needed to wrap them, she let that idea settle in the back of her mind while she dropped wrapping paper and bows into their basket.

That's what led her to where she is now. She's sitting, leaned up against the headboard of their bed wearing nothing but a bow around her neck while she reads a book. It's one of her favorites, the kind she could read over and over again, but it's hard to distract herself from the distant sounds of him out in the living room. He only came through the front door a couple of minutes ago, but every second he spends out there seems to last forever to her. The fireplace across from where their bed is placed keeps her warm in her state of undress while she waits for him to finally come find her. She's starting to become a little impatient after sitting here for so long. He usually gets off work around seven, but it must have gone late today since it's eight and he just now came home.

It takes a couple more minutes of him doing god knows what walking around the kitchen and living room area before she, at last, can hear him heading to their room.

There's the sound of the bedroom door opening, then-

Bill's eyes go wide for a second when he first sees her and he offers a sheepish, "Hi."

She flips the page of her book and tries to play it cool, keeping her eyes trained on the words she has to keep rereading as to not look up at him and that look on his face. The look that tells her that her plan went exactly the way she wanted it to when it was in its conception back at the mall. She had spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to do her hair, which ended up going up anyway, and shaving her legs even though he couldn't care less. But the sheets feel better on her skin because of it and that's a comfort she lets herself delight in, smiling slightly.

The sound of the fire crackling in the hearth fills that silence before she responds. It's hard for him to breathe.

"How was your day?" Y/N asks, briefly glancing up from the book to him, then back down, "Mine was nice, I read a lot."

It isn't a lie. Before he came home, she spent a while working on this book and it was only when she heard him coming in that she began to tune out at the thought of what was to possibly come. At imagining his fingertips brushing her neck as he undid the bow she tied there, imagining the way it'd feel to run her fingers down his chest until she reached a place much farther down, so low it would draw a soft noise from him-It made her face feel hot just thinking about it.

The feeling of his eyes burning into her from where he stands, still stuck where he's standing with a hand on the doorknob, makes her face heat up again. She knows that look in his eyes all too well and the shift had been practically instantaneous, excluding that brief moment it took for him to get over his confusion. It means that tonight is about to get very interesting and her nonchalant attitude will not last long. They tend to have these kinds of days every few months or so, after a while of work and their respective responsibilities getting on their nerves, when they've finally had enough and want a distraction from it all. Sometimes it's more of a planned distraction like today or other times it's spontaneous, like last time when they both came home from work and fell into each other's arms instantly.

That had been an eventful night.

Bill ended up tied to their bed, something the Losers never let him live down after they all met up for breakfast the next morning and saw rope marks on his wrists, and she got much more than she bargained for when she finally let him go. She fell asleep soon after it was over, but she was still sore by the time she woke up to see him beside her, snoring peacefully with an arm draped over her waist.

He lets go of the doorknob and slips his backpack off of his shoulders, not letting his eyes drift elsewhere while he sets it down.

"My day w-w-was okay, nothing really happened until n-n-n-now."

His day was remarkably boring and most of it was spent counting down the minutes to when he'd get to come home. Tonight was when they planned to put holiday decorations up around the house, but apparently she has other plans for them and that doesn't surprise him at all. And now here she is, wearing a bow like she's a present and sitting there casually, as if she isn't completely naked, pretending that everything is normal. It's definitely not what he expected to come home to, though that's not to say he's opposed to whatever it is that's happening. In fact, he couldn't be more intrigued.

It takes a moment or so, but he finally ends up caving when she flips yet another page, humming to herself, and uncrosses her legs as if for the sole purpose of taunting him.

He says through a gentle huff of laughter, "So, w-w-what is-uh-" a vague gesture to where she's sitting on their bed, the last word a little strained, "this?"

The lights in the room are dimmed ever so slightly and flickering shadows are cast upon the floor as he steps closer to the bed. It has a cozy warmth to it that they've both come to like whenever there's a fire going, especially with the snowy weather outside that provides no mercy. With her obvious lack of clothing, she had felt cold at first, but the room has since warmed up and she knows that she'll probably be plenty warm soon, if he's in the mood for what she has planned. It's been a while, longer than they usually go without touching each other, so he knew as soon as he walked in that he was going to spend the rest of the night in here rather than decorating their apartment. Eddie would be upset to miss out on decorating for the holidays anyway, so perhaps everyone is winning with this outcome.

"If you want to," She prefaces, then says while shutting her book, "you could consider this an early present."

They meet each other's gaze again as he's sitting down on the bed and neither of them can hold it together when he lets his hand fall onto where the book is carefully placed on her lap. It makes her want to laugh to herself when he picks it up, looking it over with feigned interest, cause of course he's going to tease her right back. The night hasn't even begun and he's already going to be the death of her. His other hand falls at her side, brushing up against her as if in question. His hand is still cold from the walk he took from his car to their floor and she has half a mind to jerk away from it. Goosebumps raise in the wake of that touch and they both chuckle at the way she twists from where his hand was perched on her hip.

Their laughter fades soon, though, and they're left with nothing to fill the gaps in their silence; faces softening and hearts pounding amid this little moment they share. Despite how bold what she's doing actually is, she can't help but feel shy now that it's actually happening and he's leaned in closer to her. His smile is barely there, but it's there all the same and the sight of it is calming-entrancing, almost. He has a way of having that effect on people.

Bill looks her up and down, swallowing back the lump in his throat, and says softly, "You're beautiful," the feeling of him tracing circles up her waist interrupts those words, then his smile goes wider, "And of c-course you had s-some evil p-p-p-plan brewing."

He was planning on giving her an early present too actually, but that could wait for a better moment, perhaps. The weight of it in his pocket kept distracting him all day at work, so he put it in his backpack instead to get it off his mind and now she won't accidentally feel it in his pocket or, God forbid, find it before she's supposed to.

Her scoff fills the space between them and she starts fiddling around with his tie. Fingers loosening the carefully done knot, she pulls at it until it hangs around his neck off of either shoulder.

"Evil? How is this evil, I just spent the last hour waiting here for you like this. I don't know, I'd say this is the polar opposite of evil," She says.

"We aren't gonna get any d-d-d-decorating done, a-are we?"

Pulling him close by his tie, she murmurs into his mouth, "Not if I have anything to do with it," and they're kissing before he has a chance to respond.

It's sweet and if she were standing, it would've made her weak in the knees as soon as their lips met. He tastes like coffee, she notes, probably because he was drinking it on his way home. The bitter taste lingers on her tongue as she opens her mouth to him and that kiss deepens, Bill shifting onto his knees to get closer to her. It's sensual, slow, and hot in a way that she can't describe. Every caress of his lips on her's and his tongue along the inside of her mouth has her leaning up to him to close the little remaining distance between them. Beyond the sounds of their kissing and soft, gentle sighs and moans, the sound of the book being set down on the bedside table is the only thing that can cut through the trance he's put her under.

The last time they had a night like this to themselves, she had been in control. She teased him endlessly and made him beg until she finally untied him and he gave her the everything she asked for. But even when he'd been getting rough with her, upon request, it was only him doing what she asked. He'd been wrapped around her finger that night and obeyed her every wish...which is what gave her the idea for tonight. Since he was giving her everything she wanted that time, she figured it would be fun to switch it around this time and obey _his_ every wish. After all, the idea of being under his control is incredibly appealing.

She chases where he had been when they part.

His hand had drifted up from her side all the way to her neck while they kissed, a movement she barely noticed through it all, and now she opens her eyes to see him hovered over her. The tips of his fingers brush against the bow tied around her neck and she sees his eyes narrow as he sees what she scrawled in sharpie on it and laughs.

"Unw-wr-wruh-rap me," Bill reads, amused, "You r-really weren't kidding about the early p-p-present thing..."

There's a dip of silence, his eyes look her up and down, and then she's opening her mouth to speak.

"I'm all yours," She says and slides the tie off from around his neck, "I thought we could switch things up a bit. You know," twisting the fabric between her hands, "you lead, I follow."

By nature, Bill tended to lead in most aspects of his life. With the dynamics of his friendships, with the Losers' ideas, with relationships-it comes naturally for him to be the one leading and others to be following-but not with sex. There are, of course, exceptions to that. There have been times where he's been the one in control, even times where he's made her beg for it, but it's not as often and in intimate moments like these, his role as the leader seems to slip away. He can still be rough with her when it's appropriate to be, but that isn't synonymous with being dominant and leading the situation. Now those roles might be flipped...

His eyes flicker over her for a second, a shaking exhale flooding from him, and she can see that desire in them, noting the way his grip on the bow tied around her neck goes tighter as if he were going to take it off or, as she had put it, "unwrap her". Being the follower takes trust and she's giving herself to him, in a way, and that makes his stomach turn with a familiar feeling. This entire scenario is practically a wet dream and he knows she knows that, knows that he practically creamed his jeans when he walked in to see her sitting there. It was enough to have him hard already, to say the least, and she can feel the evidence of that from where they're pressed together. But it was when he looked at her, mouth nearly watering, and caught sight of where she was twisting the tie in her hands that the idea came to him.

Bill lets the hand that was at her neck drop to take the tie from her and he's sitting on his knees now, the both of them missing the contact they were making. They haven't tried this before, but who are they to avoid experimenting with new things? It'll be a shame to not get to experience the obvious eye-fucking that would occur should he not blindfold her, but the excitement of what they're doing can make up for it.

The breath she took in catches in her throat as he fixes her hair into place, then drapes the fabric over her eyes, tying it into a knot around the back of her head so all she sees is an endless expanse of nothing. That quickly, their teasing and banter disintegrates and he's looking at her like he can't stand the thought of being apart, though it's not like she'd know.

"Is t-t-this okay?"

They have a safe word and are well versed in these more mild forms of such wild things, but he asked anyway, just in case.

Her voice is hushed yet firm, in spite of her arousal and excitement, it does not shake, "Of course."

It's quiet and she can't feel him anymore, can only hear the soft sounds of his breathing, until she reaches out for him. She laid there for what had to have felt like minutes, and was truly half of one, waiting for his next move, but it didn't happen. It hadn't been something she thought of, but having one of your senses taken away, especially sight, can make the anticipation and sensation of it all heightened to a degree you haven't felt it at before. It makes sense, but now that it's happening, she can't help but yearn for him a little more. Now that she can see him or feel him and has no way of knowing what comes next, it makes her antsy, especially since she's usually in his position. She wonders if she'll have to beg for it again like he made her do months ago, if he'll refuse to touch her until she gets so frustrated that she'll plead with him. She hopes for it.

Blindly, reaching for where he's hovered over her, she feels her fingertips brush his bare abdomen- _I didn't notice him take off his shirt_ -and the way it tenses at her touch before he comes back to his senses.

"No," He says, that word paired with the feeling of his hand wrapping around her wrist with a significant strength to pin her arm back on the mattress makes her want to press her thighs together to relieve the ache there, "I'll l-let you kn-n-n-now what to do...just relax," his voice went soft on those words and his breath feels hot where it clouds against her neck, "d-d-don't be a brat about it."

They both know that she's not gonna listen, but, for now, she nods and plays along with that as if she won't disobey for the sole purpose of getting him riled up. Even if he'll put on a mask of calm and patience outwardly, she knows it kills him to make her wait and beg just as much as it does her. He wanted her the second he walked through that door...

His hand is still wrapped around her wrist by the time he leans forward.

There's no anticipating where he'll be next, one moment there's be nothing and the next she feels his lips on her's, consuming and needy and greedy. But then he'll go again and leave her with only that touch on her wrist to hold her off, never giving in completely, always teasing and leaving. His mouth is feather-light on her as he kisses along her chest though, his presence relieving after his disappearances and reappearances, and she can swear that every feeling of him on her is intensified.

Being blindfolded makes her focus more on how everything feels and all she knows is that it feels good. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin and he sucks at it until there's a plethora of deep, vibrant purple-red marks across her breasts. He makes sure to leave a couple too high up, up on her shoulder, so she won't be able to miss it when she wakes up and looks in the mirror tomorrow morning-though she'll see the well-hidden ones in the shower regardless. Either way, there's something about it that makes them both melt a little. The idea of marking a person as your own, as well as the idea of being claimed like that, is hot to them both and it's a hard sight to miss. He's not the jealous type-correction, he's the _quietly_ jealous type-but he can't help the way things like this make him feel. Y/N said it herself, she's all his.

The sheets are soft where they slide along her shifting limbs, her legs moving apart with the help of his guiding touch so he can settle comfortably between them. It's so easy to feel his erection pressing against her through his pants, her legs wrapped around his hips to keep him near, and it makes her squirm against him for a brief second. It makes her want him badly enough to move against him, a soft sound falling from him in reaction to the unexpected touch. At the moment, nothing appeals to her more than having him as close as physically possible, basking in the sensation of him dragging in and out of her torturously slow. She loves his teasing, but nothing is like having him inside of her; gasping and throbbing and warm. It's worth begging for, no matter how embarrassing it would feel to admit that to anyone, and, God help her, she's never craved him so desperately.

He parted her legs without hesitation, took both of her knees and she let him in so easily, and now one of those hands is drifting. Down the inside of her thigh, the pads of his fingers caress until he gets to where her leg bridges to the rest of her body and stop short just beside where she needs it. Perhaps she started a game she can't win and is way in over her head, because he doesn't back down. She's used to him bending at her will, but that won't be the case.

There hadn't been a reprimand when she rolled her hips on him, but now she's dropping her hand and rubs at him through those last layers. It feels too good for him to gather himself initially and she can't see the way his face scrunches against her's, eyebrows furrowing with that pleasure, but she hears his breaths go shallow for a moment and can feel him buck into her hand involuntarily.

Bill yanks her hand away and pins them both in his free one this time, pressing her into the bed hard. Their mouths brush with every breath and he makes sure to keep the hand down low away from where they both want him to touch. If she's going to disobey, he's going to react.

He ducks to whisper into her ear, lips practically worshipping that stretch of skin just below it before he speaks, "I w-won't t-t-t-touch you if y-you don't listen, you o-only get what you want if you're g-g-g-good," then he grinds his hips against her hard enough to make her tip her head back into the pillow, punctuating his next words with the movement, "Be a good girl f-for me."

Those words go straight to that swirling pleasure that keeps building within her and she knows he knows. He knows what he's doing and she hates him for it, but she loves him so much too. He knows exactly what gets her and she can't decide how to feel about his teasing, but her body has certainly made its choice. It makes her legs tighten around him, tugging him so close that they can feel one another's body heat, even with the layers of his pants and underwear. If only she could get her hands on him...this restraint will be the death of her.

His hand doesn't move from where it's shoved down between their bodies, but he doesn't do a thing and she knows he won't until she says what he wants to hear. He's halted everything in the wake of her disobedience, waiting for her to give in. She tries to kiss him, but he pulls back and murmurs a soft, but stern, " _No_ ", that makes her whine indignantly at him in protest.

It takes patience on his part since he nearly ended up giving in right before she did, but she opened her mouth to speak before he could move an inch. In a way, hearing her snapped him back into place and reminded him over his role here. His face is still tucked into the curve of her neck.

"I'll-"

She can hardly string words together as he lets his hand drift closer and rub at that sensitive spot, then withdrawals from her almost instantaneously. A fleeting reward for almost doing what he wanted.

"I promise, I'll be good."

Their teeth clash when they crash together, her gasping into the kiss since she couldn't see him coming, and the relief of having him close again is immeasurable.

Every kiss is dizzying and chaotic, but the way his hand trails closer down her thigh again is anything but. The touch is calculated and soft, such a contradiction to how they typically are in these situations. When Bill and Y/N are together, it's usually explosive with an eagerness and passion that they can't seem to control and that's reflected in every movement. Except now he's taking it slow; tracing his fingertips along her skin a little nearer every time and only ever letting her get the slightest bit of gratification before pulling away. That tantalizing build-up only makes it better when he finally gives her what she wants, her chest halting mid-breath at that initial touch.

The sounds she's making make _him_ a little breathless and it's an effort to keep himself at bay. The paired feeling of him kissing at her sweet spot, those open-mouthed kisses never drifting from where he places them on her neck, and his teasing fingers between her legs makes her heartbeat skip every so often. It's not overwhelming, but the type of sensation that one can sense above any other. It's not the kind that knocks her off her feet, that will have to wait until later, but it's breathtaking, giving her exactly enough to simultaneously want to move on to what comes next and never want it to end. At this point, he knows her body as well as his own.

Her hips meet him halfway when he slides a finger into her, unable to help herself no matter the fact that rushing things and doing something without his say-so is probably the opposite of being "good", but the sight of it was too hot for him to care. Plus, he tends to be quite lenient when he's the dominant one and lets her get away with things here or there. Every so often, he'll need to remind her she's not in charge, but there are little things she knows she can do and have it go unnoticed. But if she thinks he's going to let her keep pushing it, she's in for a reality check. Feeling her lean into what he gave her was enough of a distraction and seeing that she's already so wet made his hips jerk forward when he first touched her. Seeing, and feeling, her reaction to him only makes him needier, but he doesn't dare rush it.

It's difficult to keep herself from trying to twist out of where he's holding her wrists down because she knows that being rebellious will only end in not getting what she wants. He's right there, but she can't touch or look at him and she desperately wishes she could. All she can do is writhe underneath him and listen to what he says or the involuntary sounds that they share. Every pump of his fingers is sensual and caresses her in that perfect, " _Oh, fuck, right there_ ," kind of way that has him laughing softly at how she's blindly turning to find him through her temporary state of darkness.

"Bill," She breathes out, unable to do anything, not even watch.

With an obscene looking hickey now painted on her neck, Bill lets her lean up to kiss him. She's gasping when their lips meet, though, since he started rubbing at her clit with the pad of his thumb and that instantly made her melt in his arms without a second to prepare for it. Not being able to see anything makes everything, even such normal things, come as a surprise. It feels as if she's on fire with every stroke and he does nothing to tame it. In fact, it's him causing it, worsening it by the second with those perfect fingers and naughty words whispered in her ear. That budding pleasure is aided by the memory of him saying such things... _Be a good girl for me_ , it's all she can think of on an endless loop in her mind.

The hand restraining her's slips away and, though she could, she doesn't move them from where they had been as he lets his newly free hand slide down to her. It could be amusing to see what his idea of punishment would be should she disobey him again, but what he's doing to her feels too good and she'd give anything to keep that attention fixed on her forever. She arches against him, as if trying to get closer, and can hardly stand it anymore.

Between the hand that settled overtop one of her breasts, kneading and stroking in a way that makes the feeling of what he does elsewhere increase tenfold, the fingers buried in her, hitting all of the right spots with each thrust that has her moaning into his mouth, and the kisses that make it hard to catch a breath, it's overwhelming. The separate actions all blend together until she's unable to discern where it's all coming from and she finally lets go of that need to be in control, finally lets herself relax and take what he so enthusiastically gives.

She tries to imagine what he looks like right now; face flushed, lips red and kiss-swollen, strands of hair falling into his face, and pupils wide with lust-the thought of it makes her buck into his hand involuntarily, it's so hot. It's a sight she's familiar with, one she's never been deprived of, yet now she's close to begging him to take the blindfold off because of how much she wants to see and touch him. She _could_ touch him right now if she wanted to, but she said she'd be good and listen, so her hands stay far from where he's kissing and touching and murmuring the most indecent things to her.

But just like that, he pulls back.

Both hands drawing away, body no longer pressed up against her so perfectly, it takes all of her control to not reach after him as she had earlier on and that initial moment where he's gone is torture. He was making her feel so good and now she's left with no clue on where this will go next, which is far more thrilling than she ever figured it would be. No wonder he likes to follow her lead, knowing that he has complete control over her turns her on so much that it almost embarrasses her with how easy it is.

Bill only left her to undress, though the timing had been partly to tease her right when things were starting to get good, and the sound of his pants falling to the floor with a barely-audible "thump" is all she needs to be brought back from her thoughts.

The bed creaks with his shifting weight when he crawls back to her, grabbing her by her thighs and pulling her the rest of the way to him. He finally lets her arms come to rest at her side once they're together again, his knees on either side of her hips and one arm braced on the mattress. His other hand keeps itself busy trailing up the length of her body, still slightly slick with her arousal, and he can hear her breath shake on the exhale at that grazing touch.

This isn't something Y/N has ever done, but it's surprised her with how much she enjoys it. It seemed fitting that they mix things up a bit, but having him guide her through everything is a level of control he has over her that they've never experimented with. She can't see a thing and, on top of that, is being told what to do with every step they take, if that isn't being submissive, then she doesn't know what would be. This kind of thing wouldn't work if they didn't trust each other and that's what makes it so hot, she supposes. Knowing that she's in the arms of someone who loves, cares for, and trusts her just as much as she trusts him makes any apprehension she could have fade away as if it had never existed. Guys she'd been with previously hadn't truly cared about her enjoyment during sex, she'd had more selfish lovers than not, and they probably would've used a situation like this as a way to do whatever they wanted, but not him. Her last boyfriend before meeting him was the worst with that and seemed to view her as more of a means to get off rather than his partner, he was always ignoring what she said she liked in favor of what he wanted. That's what made it so jarring when she began sleeping with, and eventually dating, Bill.

Their relationship was complicated in the beginning and it all started with them meeting through his friends in the second half of their first year of college.

They had both immediately been head over heels for each other, but tried to keep things strictly physical, no emotional connections or falling in love...which clearly didn't last. It was roughly two months into this that they ended up confessing their feelings for each other one night. After it was over and he was lying beside her, she couldn't stop the words from coming out. Though she knows it's how you're _supposed_ to be with someone, he treated her better than anyone had before and even if she weren't considering that, she already liked him before she realized how caring he would be with her. It had been an instantaneous connection that neither of them could deny, so she figured to lay it all out on the table rather than continue to hide it. The thing is, she hadn't expected him to feel the same and suddenly there was this newfound happiness she hadn't yet discovered.

That was seven years ago and they've been together ever since.

His idle tracing at the skin along her waist makes her stop and she debates disobeying his orders for a long, quiet moment at the feeling of him touch her.

Deciding it's worth the risk, she reaches down and grabs his hand by the wrist. They're both still quiet, but they share their every breath and she can easily tell that he stops breathing for a second when she brings his hand up and takes his fingers into her mouth, sucking on them as if she were doing it to a very different part of him.

He can hardly stay still while he watches her, but he's not sure that he even wants to. The teasing is fun and all, but what she's doing is giving him thoughts that make him blush just thinking about them, let alone actually acting on them. Her lips pull off of him soundlessly and he can't help the way his eyes follow that taunting mouth of her's as she presses a lingering kiss to his fingertips.

If she could see him right now, she'd probably get smug from the look that put on his face.

There's a pause between them, then he takes her by the hand that had been holding his wrist and pulls her to him; the both of them sitting up together. Their faces are so close that their noses brush every other second, her chest rising and falling in a more exaggerated fashion than it had been while she waits for what he's to say or do. And there's this restlessness that plagues them, her heart hammering in her chest, during that span of seconds. She craves him, everything about him, and she knows he feels the same, that there's nothing more that he wants right now than to spend the rest of the night here with her.

He crowds her space, kisses her deeply, and their intertwined hands slide down until they're resting in his lap. With no more layers left between them, Y/N takes advantage of the position.

She lets her hand drift from his and he leans into her significantly closer when she finally gets to touch him; dragging her thumb over the head of his dick and delighting in the moan that falls from his lips in response. After having no relief given this entire time, that had more of an effect on him than he'd like to admit. The sounds of their lips meeting through the darkness and his soft moans are all she hears as she pleasures him and it's only a fuel to the fire that he started. Even if she still can't get her hands all over him the way she'd truly like to, this contact is more than she's gotten tonight and she's grateful for it. A drop of pre-come drips onto the tip of her thumb and onto her palm while she slowly starts to jerk him off.

He nearly loses his composure at what happens next.

It's clear that she was about to nudge him onto his back and make the descend downward, but then she stopped, broke off their kiss only for a moment, and asked, her hand's movements never once faltering, "Can I?"

"P-P-Puh-Please," He says and allows the full extent of his desperation to show for the first time tonight, "yes."

He never said she had permission to touch the rest of him, so she doesn't let her attention wander too far, but she takes his blessing and runs with it, pressing him back into the mattress while that last syllable is still on his tongue.

The hand that instinctively ends up twisting itself into her hair trembles when she takes him into her mouth and the grip he has tightens harshly enough to leave her breathless.

Even when one would think she'd have the upper hand on the situation, he's still there, guiding and stern and in full control of what she does to him. There's that hand that's holding her pulled-back hair in a shaking fist and the other that cradles her face the entire time. Doing this in particular always has him like putty in her hands, the ideas she put in his head when she had sucked on his fingers were all filthy and she knows this because she was having them too. The taste of those few drops of pre-come is oddly sweet in her mouth, different to the way it is when he's actually come in her mouth and she's left with that salty, somewhat unpleasant, somewhat not taste lingering there. It still tastes like what it is, but it's not nearly as strong of a taste and she doesn't mind it at all, actually finds it incredibly intimate seeing as she's the only person who gets to do this to him.

He's vulnerable, but, at the same time, she is too and with every caress of her lips on him, it becomes more passionate.

" _Fuck_ ," He curses under his breath.

But then his hips jerk forward at the way her tongue drags at that sensitive spot along the underside of him and he has to stop for a second, propping himself onto an elbow to look down at her. The hand still cupping the side of her face taps her jaw, prompting her to stop.

"I'm s-so s-s-sorry," Bill has to focus on what he's trying to say, "I d-d-d-didn't mean to-"

Her eyes are watering a little bit, a mere physical reaction that he can't see happen, but she admits, shaking her head, "No, it's okay, I'm okay," then she offers, embarrassed, "I actually liked it... you can keep going if you want..."

Cheeks burning with how hard he blushes, he can't exactly articulate how hearing that made him feel, but he doesn't need to cause she's already moving back to him to continue before he can ask her, ever the worrier, if she's sure that it's okay.

He truly hadn't meant to, it was a mix of him losing himself in the feeling of what was happening and that instinctive urge to move into what's happening instead of focusing on staying still that ended with _that_. It's not like they've ever done it before, so he'd never intentionally go into uncharted territory without her say-so, it just happened and he wasn't entirely conscious of it. Usually, he can keep still. She squirms a lot more than he ever does when he goes down on her, probably just cause he's far too good at it, which is something he knows he's good at because of her reaction and praise but would never admit out loud without his face going red. But that's not to say she isn't good at it either though-hell, he felt so good that he completely clocked out for a second and his hips moved on their own accord before he could realize what he did. He expected her to want to stop-rightfully so-but that didn't happen and instead, something very different is about to happen that he doesn't know how to wrap his head around.

Whenever they try new things, it always makes them more excited than they can handle and this isn't an exception, especially because of how submissive of a position this kind of thing puts her in. She went from being the one in control the majority of the time on nights like these to essentially going, _"You know, Bill, I'm open to getting face-fucked,"_ which is enough of a change in pace to give him whiplash.

This time, she can tell from how gentle the hands that hold either side of her face are that this is out of their usual comfort zone. As if he's nervous of making her uncomfortable, it's very slow going when he stops fighting that urge to thrust into her mouth and meets her halfway with every dip of her head, his own rolling back onto the mattress in ecstasy. It's much more sensual than she ever pictured-for now, of course-cause even as he's fucking her mouth, there's that constant soothing touch of one of his hands stroking her hair and that's the most _him_ thing she could ever imagine someone doing.

He looks down at her upon hearing, and feeling, a noise come from her and can hardly keep it together when he sees that she's touching herself too. He hadn't been far off earlier when he thought to himself that this feels like a wet dream, cause, _fuck_ , everything feels amazing and neither of them can stand it at this point. This is only reminding him of what's to come, of what they both are impatient for, and he shudders at the feeling of her mouth on him, the cadence of his previously-slow movements starting to pick up. Watching her as her hand moves between her legs in an attempt to chase that building high he had her nearing earlier is what starts to get him close and he knows they have to stop soon, or else he'll end up coming in her mouth soon enough.

After a couple moments of watching her, he has to lay his head back on the mattress again or else he would've collapsed into it if he hadn't. It took too much energy and strength to keep himself propped up on his elbows and he knows he'll have to exert plenty of it in a moment with where this is leading them to. He always jokes around with her that sex is a better workout than anything else he does, which is true when they're in a position that's tougher than usual-in his opinion. This one in particular is killing his abdomen, but that's not what's on his mind with all that he's feeling. Most of the time it's a variation of the same couple ones, life is too busy to have nights like these all the time and they're plenty satisfied with good old-fashioned missionary on days that they come home and don't exactly feel like going all out, but they'll both be sore tomorrow, that's something he's sure of. As soon as he walked through that door and saw her, he knew today was going to be one of those days for them. The days that always seem to linger in his mind and on his skin for ages after it's over.

Y/N's free hand is gripping the sheets into a fist rather than bracing itself on him as she would've done on a "normal" night. He still hasn't said she could touch him. Obviously, she is touching him, except not with her hands and it's touching in the most extreme degree, but she's not actually touching him the way she knows he's holding off on letting her do to him. That's why she opted for reaching down between her own legs to offer up some much-needed relief instead, cause if he wasn't going to let her put hands on him without his word to do so, she wouldn't deprive _herself_ of such a thing. It does make her stop every so often when he thrusts into her mouth, though, her hand halting when she feels him there a little deeper than he last had been and she can hardly focus due to how much is going on. Never would she have thought she'd be into this type of thing, yet here they are and she finds it so hot, the mere idea of it earlier had her itching to get to it.

They continue on like this for longer than he thought he could manage and she ends up having her first climax. She was unable to help the way her legs trembled with it and the jerk of his hips seemed to slow considerately while it came over her. It's only when she starts to notice those tell-tale signs of him getting close that she's about to pull away, but he beats her to it. Drawing back from her mouth, he sees her reaching out to him and helps guide her back to be face to face, legs settling on either side of his hips.

His thumb brushes over her cheekbone lovingly and he murmurs, allowing their game to fade away for a moment to check on her, "H-H-How're you f-feeling?"

And in an attempt to make him laugh or cringe, she's countering back at him immediately, deciding to be vulgar.

"Like I could use a dick in me right about now, but who knows how much teasing you still have in store," Y/N says, then adds, "and you say _I'm_ the evil one."

His gentle laughter is infectious, she thinks as she listens and can picture that cute smile that always accompanies that sound in her head. It isn't like she doesn't like it, she's the one who initiated tonight and she'll gratefully take a lot of foreplay over what her previous partners had "given" her-which was, essentially, nothing at all-but it has gotten to the point where she's ready to start begging for it. He knows exactly how to get her there and tonight that line was crossed as soon as he starting whispering such dirty things in her ear.

Talking during sex involves a lot of stop and go for him, repeating words and tough syllables often enough to make most impatient people go out of their mind, but when he does, it's certainly memorable.

Bill's features soften as their shared laughter dies down and though she cannot see it happen, she knows and recognizes the way he's looking at her right now off of memory alone. As if the very universe revolves around her...and he knows that she'd be looking back at him the same exact way too.

"S-Suh-Seriously though," their noses bump, "Y-You okay t-to keep g-g-g-going?"

"Yes."

Not a second of hesitation there, she leans the rest of the way through the limited distance between them to kiss him. His lips are soft on her's as they meet tenderly and slowly. It's a stark difference to the way they had been going before.

Before, it had been quick and rough and needy, but now that pace has lessened because of the little break they took to talk. It may not be as rough, but that doesn't mean it lacks in passion. It's that kind of kiss that makes you breathless and dizzied-akin to the high she got that time he and Bev were passing a joint while they hung out in the living room and the latter offered her a drag. One of his hands tilts her chin up gingerly as their mouths collide in a result of tonight's ever-building desire and they could both swear that, if only for this moment, time has paused for them. All he knows is the person above him and he feels his heart glow with a warm, glittering light the longer they remain this way. And he's aware the sentiment couldn't be more mutual on her end too. The love she feels behind that kiss makes some lost, pure piece of her soul unearth itself and settle within her chest to provide its comforting sense of completeness. Forget what comes next, they're too lost in what's happening currently...

That is, until her tongue slips back into his mouth and the sound that falls from him makes her remember what's happening.

Y/N grinds her hips down against where his dick presses insistently between her thighs in time with their connecting lips, all that's needed to get him buried inside of her is a little push, and she can feel his body go slack at this. He doesn't scold her for it the way she was sure he would, so she keeps it up. At a slow, undulating pace, their bodies rock together lazily, as if he's still locked in that daze they were in, but can't help but meet her there every time.

"Please," She whines into his mouth, punctuating the word with a roll of her hips that has him moaning and his body jerking forward instinctively in search of that wet warmth that would satisfy that ache in him so perfectly, "I've been good..."

It's as if that word sets him off, cause she could sense the shift in him as soon as it left her mouth. Rather that participate absentmindedly with every rhythmic rise and fall of her grinding against him, he's starting to go still in her arms and his only movement is where he kisses her between what she says.

After interrupting herself to kiss him back, unable to resist such a temptation, her voice is barely a push of air when she next speaks.

"I want you..."

It couldn't be more blunt than that, he's afraid, but he still draws it out for the sake of the little game they have going. Though she likes to be a brat when it comes to this, he knows she likes being teased. The draw-out makes that eventual high so much better, as feathery-light brushes and touches escalate into this and she's become desperate by the time they get to this point.

Bill's grip on her legs squeezes tight enough to make her breath catch in her throat and his eyes cast a glance she can't see that's far too heated to be casual.

The word comes out as more of a soft whine than anything else, but he still murmurs, as if his patience has been worn thin too and every word that she says persuades him, "Yeah?"

Hearing her hum in response into their kiss makes his hand's grip go even tighter and he can't stand it anymore. He ends up flipping them over right then and there, makes a sharp gasp fall from her when her back hits the mattress and he slides into her in one smooth motion.

Her teeth dig into her lower lip hard and she holds her breath as he bottoms out inside of her; his jaw slack in an inaudible moan. All of her thoughts are muddled and tangled, but they all consist of the same vague conclusion she comes to, which is that she wants be able to see and feel him. That would make everything she feels that much more intense, but that's precisely why he doesn't let her. He isn't done teasing her, even if he's giving her what she began to beg for, that's not all she wants and this is the last bit of leverage he has on her. So, he surely won't let go of it until the opportunity is at its best. Until he knows she's past the point of begging and more-so at the point of _needing_.

All of that time spent touching and going proved to have an effect on her though, since she's impossibly wet with the first painstakingly slow move he makes as he draws back from her, her hips trying to chase where he had been as soon as he does it. The familiar, but overwhelming sensation of having him inside of her never fails to excite and arouse her even more than she already is. It's the idea of being as close as one can physically get to another person that's so intoxicating, though. Above the plentiful amount of physical pleasure derived from it, it's such an intimate way of showing your love for another person and it doesn't have to be a soft, gentle bout of lovemaking for it to feel this way. It doesn't matter if it's the kind of emotional sex that brings tears to your eyes or the less emotional, but more playful times like this, that closeness is ever-present no matter what and she loves it.

Not thinking, she reaching up to hold onto him by the waist.

"No," He reminds her, hands at her wrists faster than either of them can blink, and he's shaking his head, "You s-said yuh-you'd be g-g-g-good," then he's burying himself back into her without warning, hips snapping forward into her's hard enough to make her eyes roll back into her head underneath the blindfold, "Remember?"

After that sudden, hard thrust he lets it slow again, almost to a stop, and she can hear the words that go unspoken in their silence flooded with heavy breaths and moans, words she's heard before. That strong grip on her wrists digs into her skin and she's sure there will be bruises tomorrow morning, payback, perhaps, for those rope marks he'll get taunted over by their friends until the end of time. It turns her on, though. Some people aren't into the idea of having something get rough with them, restrain them, or throw them around the way they have with each other, some think it's not hot, but they beg to differ. Why else would she disobey so much, if not to get this reaction from him? Reaching out to touch him had been accidental, but the rest of the night's slip ups were not, she wants to provoke him until there's nothing left but this mindless desire she knows they're capable of disappearing into.

He pins her there to the mattress and fucks her slow. It's not what she wanted and she knows she's going to have to use her words to get what she wants, though. _You smug bastard_ , she almost says, _saying it once wasn't enough?_ No, of course it wasn't, not with how he's been with her all night. He's running out of patience too, but he's not as far gone as she is and can sense that, he knows he can wait her out.

She feels so good around him, Bill's so close to saying, "Screw it", and abandoning what they have going, but he doesn't. Somehow, he manages to control that urge and keep up that steady, lazy pace they're currently.

"Tuh-Tell me w-w-w-what-what you want."

It's frustrating to have to lay here and endure having him so close to giving her what she wants, but it being held just out of reach until she gives in. But, after all, this is what she was expecting and wanting from tonight and he sure is delivering on that expectation. Though he isn't used to it, he plays the part well, she has to give him that at the very least. Every time his voice drops a little deeper than it naturally is or when he's rougher with her than he normally is, there's a delightful chill that crawls up the length of her spine. The way she does it is different, it's more seductive and plays subtly off all of the things she knows will get to him, meanwhile he goes right for the throat and doesn't hold back with it. It gives them a lot of room to experiment though, depending on who's in his position.

Y/N opens her mouth to speak, but as she does, he moves again and she melts in his arms at the feeling of him filling her up. If she were looking at him, he's sure she'd been glaring right now, eyes speaking for her and telling him exactly how she felt about what he just did. Prolonging this by any means possible seems to be his course of action, apparently, but two can play at that game. If he wants to keep her here this way and go at this until she begs, she'll take him up on it.

This time, she forces herself to think clearly through the haze in her mind that worsens with every roll of his hips.

"Fuck me," a whine falls from the back of his throat at that, "that's all I want."

There's a pause in the air between them as soon as the words leave her mouth and she can't gauge his reaction other than the noise he had made a couple seconds ago. All that exists when he goes still and quiet is anticipation and it tears her apart, however brief it may be.

The hands pinning her wrists to the bed slip away and slide down her body, ghosting over her breasts with just enough pressure to set her blood on fire, until they're stopping at her waist.

"Good girl," Bill murmurs and presses a chaste kiss to her lips.

Then, it's chaos.

Giving her exactly what she asked for and more, he certainly isn't holding anything back now and there's nothing for her to do except go along for the ride.

They're both gasping into each other's mouths at the sudden change in pace and the hands on her waist dig in harshly to get some leverage, her legs wrapped around his hips instantly in an attempt to hold on to him too. It went from relaxed and slow to being so frantic, they have to hold on for dear life. It isn't so out of control that there isn't a sense of pace or rhythm, but they know that it won't last for too long and their already-desperate movements will only get worse as it continues. She's sure she'll be sore in the morning, but that doesn't matter right now. Her mind has gone blank in the wake of what's happening and all she can think about is wanting it rougher, harder, if that's even possible at that rate they're going now. There's a time and place for sweet, slow, tender sex, but that isn't here or now, they're insatiable.

He tries to kiss her, but every hard snap of his hips into her's sends their mouths off-kilter and he just ends up pulling back to look down at her instead. Despite the fact that tie they're using as a blindfold may be obstructing a small part of her face, he's still awed by her all the same and his eyes can't help but follow her every movement. If she knew he were staring so blatantly, she'd be blushing, but since she hasn't gone bashful and flushed due to the blindfold, he's able to admire her without the typical breaking eye contact.

It's not that she dislikes when he looks at her, that's not the case at all, it's that it starts to feel like too much when he focuses on her for so long and she doesn't know how to be comfortable with someone finding her beautiful. People are raised to dodge compliments rather than accept them and self esteem has been an issue she's struggled with since she was a teen, so his affections are simultaneously helpful and strange to encounter. On one hand, it's difficult for her to accept that he isn't just lying to or humoring her, that he's actually truthful when he compliments her. Though she knows he wouldn't lie about it, there's still a voice in the back of her head telling her it isn't true sometimes and it's taken years for her to begin to ignore it. But then on the other hand, because she knows he's genuine, hearing these compliments and noticing him look at her with such admiration ultimately helps quell the issues she has with self esteem because she knows it's not something he does on purpose. He doesn't tell her these things because he's trying to make her feel better, he does it cause he means it and it's always so casual, which makes it mean more to her.

That's why she blushes a little, but doesn't feel as if what he's saying isn't true when he compliments her this time. One of the hands that was perched at her waist is cupping the side of her face as he makes a particularly deep thrust, the both of them unable to stop the moans and gasps that escape.

Focusing through the chaos, he says, "Y-You're-You're s-so b-b-b-b-" a frustrated sigh falls from him that's from both not being able to get the word out and the sensation of her tensing around him for a second, "b-beautiful."

Y/N doesn't have the chance to respond or acknowledge what he said because his abdomen brushes up against her clit on the upstroke and it renders her useless, head tipping back into the mattress instantly.

The ache in his muscles is only getting worse by the second, but he can't be bothered with it, he's too distracted with her to care. Plus, she meets him there with every roll of his hips and helps ease that strain, doing all she can, short of touching him, to get closer. As it had when she was touching herself earlier, that pleasure keeps building within her as they continue on, making her increasingly more receptive to his touch and that indescribable feeling of him hitting that perfect spot inside of her again and again, and she's sure it's the same for him too. That rhythm they set is starting to become lost in their desperation and everything he does makes it clear that he's getting close. Not nearly as close as he'd been earlier, but enough to have his breaths get shallower than they'd been and his stutter worsen to the point where he can hardly speak.

Because of this, he scoops her up in his arms and shifts them so she's sitting in his lap with her legs on either side of him while he settles onto his knees.

Her arms are draped over his shoulders, but she still doesn't touch him, not until he says to, and that makes him frown, at last letting go of the game they were playing now that they're chasing their respective highs. That was precisely why he waited this long to give her the go ahead, though. Sight aids heavily in arousal, as does being able to do something as simple as touching your lover, and she's been deprived of it this entire time. Minus the blindfold, she's done the same to him before and he knows how hard it hits when you can finally get your hands on the person your with and all of those rules they set in place fade away. Giving her a taste of her own medicine had been fun, but he wants to be able to look into her eyes, to feel her holding and touching him. It's been just as torturous for him as it has been for her, so he's smiling against her lips as he thinks it over and finally reaches up for the blindfold.

Their bodies collide beautifully, he notes, and it feels just as perfect, if not more, than it looks to him. They're both starting to lose their composure, her especially when she feels a hand move between them and that familiar anticipation of what might happen next floods her. It isn't what she thought he was going to do, but she welcomes the change wholeheartedly since this was what she's wanted for a while now.

"S-S-Since-Since y-you've been s-s-s-so good..." Bill trails off, sliding the tie off of her face until it hangs round her neck beside the bow that they forgot to take off, "t-touch me-"

Before he can fully finish that last word, she's reached forward and cupped his face in her hands, kissing him as if she would never get the chance to do it again. Her body moves in time with his, hips rolling with confidence and surety now that he's given her the permission to touch him as she normally would, and those hands can't linger in one place for longer than a few seconds before she has to explore more of him. Her palms run down his chest, muscles there tensing beneath her touch, up his back, and onto his arms-they roam everywhere they can manage. Touching, kissing, tugging; she can't get enough of him and the idea of that turns him on more than he could ever express. It makes every thrust he makes into her a little more frantic and, sensing that, she realizes that she hasn't even let herself get a good look at him yet in her eagerness to kiss and touch him. There had been a glimpse immediately after he took the blindfold off, but she was still blinking at the dim light in the room by the time she leaned in.

Y/N pulls away and has to hold onto him by bracing a hand on his chest and the other on his bicep, nails digging in hard enough to make him go breathless, to feel steady. It's only then that she glances over at him through it all and lets herself get lost in the mesmerization.

He'd said she was beautiful a moment ago, yet there he is, practically glowing. The orange-yellow light that the fire casts upon the room makes the red tones of his hair much more vibrant and shadows a warm shade over his pale skin. If she weren't so distracted, she'd tell him every thought that's swirling in her head as looks at him. But she truly doesn't need to voice those thoughts, because the way she's looking at him is enough to communicate the message and his face is flushed, for a multitude of reasons, when they catch each other's gaze. For one, what they're doing alone is enough to make him blush, but she's brought it to a completely different level with her groping hands and affectionate eyes that make his own actions increasingly eager in nature. They're both enthralled by one another and she could swear that he's never looked as stunning to her as he does right now. Never would she have thought that simply looking at or touching another person could arouse her to this extent, yet here they are and those blue eyes fixed solely on her are nearly enough to push her over the edge.

The way they grasp one another as they both near their end is possessive and rough, but there's so much tenderness there too. Those open-mouthed kisses are far too sweet for the way they're going at it and it makes her heart melt, even if her focus is mostly elsewhere. He moans into her mouth at the feeling of her nails digging into his skin even harder than they'd been before and the sound makes her shudder against him, that nearing high so close that she can almost feel it.

"I-" She stops for a moment, looking down at him, then whispers, "I love you."

And, rather than respond since he's pretty sure he won't be able to get it out, he gives a soft, vulnerable whine in response instead.

Their rutting is untamable when his hand slips between them to give some much-needed attention to that bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs and, with a gasp, her orgasm reaches her at last.

Y/N holds onto him for dear life when it hits her-mouth falling open where their lips had been connected-and lets the overwhelming sensation take over. Her very existence dissolves into that white-hot euphoria that makes her body go tense in his arms and it makes her mind go blank of any other thoughts except ones of the person in front of her. Even then, it's mostly just the intense sense of bliss that floods every one of her senses to the fullest extent that she can think of, it's so peacefully distracting. And he prolongs it with every involuntary sound and thrust he makes into her. _He's_ distracting too, she decides, as he comes undone and she watches in not-so-quiet desire through every breathtaking second of it.

Her legs are shaking with the effort it takes to hold her weight, but she doesn't give into her exhaustion while they come down from it together, still rocking together at a pace so slow in comparison to the one they'd been at not too long ago. Plus, he moved his hands to support her by either thigh in anticipation of the way her body would go slack atop his when she climaxed anyway, so she's able to give her poor leg muscles some relief.

All is silent, save for their heavy exhales and the crackling of the fire in the hearth, and they're both incredibly sensitive to the touch when they finally stop. Sucking in a sharp breath as he pulls out, her eyes flutter shut for a brief second and her forehead falls to press gingerly against his. She misses that sense closeness in his absence, but then there's the feeling of his hand on her shoulder, sliding until it's tilting her chin up so he can kiss her, and she feels just as close as she's ever been.

It's a couple of minutes of lying there together and catching their breath, him having laid back onto the mattress and pulled her along with him to cuddle, before she feels the need to go clean up. Being on a contraceptive pill makes not using any other forms of birth control safe, but it's still quite messy and, as much as she'd love to stay here with him, she wants to feel clean before she starts to relax for the night. Yet, unbeknownst to her, the excitement that's to come will likely prevent her from doing so and tonight will end up being one of those nights where neither of them can sleep if he decides to give her the gift he picked up today. And, in complete honesty, he wouldn't have bought it if he hadn't wanted to do it tonight. Sure, she had distracted them from decorating for the holidays with her plans, but his would've ended with them exactly where they currently are as well.

She's been wrapped up in his arms, his head on her shoulder and arm stretched across her waist, but stirs slightly now, gently slipping away from his grasp to get up. And Bill, still in a haze from what just happened, reaches after her. A warm hand grabs her's before she can make for the bathroom and when she turns, she sees him glancing up at her curiously.

"W-W-Where are you going?" He asks softly, sounding like a pleading child, almost, with the question that begs her to stay with him for a while.

A tender smile blooms on her face and she squeezes his hand once before letting it drop between them. The sheets are disheveled where his arm gently lands on them.

"Just wanna clean up," that sweet smile never fails to make his heart race widens, "I'll be right back and you'll have me for the rest of the night, promise."

It takes every bit of restraint he has to not ask, a sated little half-smile to match her's, _"Is the rest of our lives okay with you?"_

It's been on his mind all day and he can't seem to escape it. Even when he took it out of his pocket and moved it to the front most pouch of his backpack, he still felt it like a phantom weight lingering there with every second he spent waiting to get home to her.

When he got home, he planned to pour them some wine, give her the flowers that are sitting on the kitchen counter right now, and ask her, but then he walked into their room and there she was, having hatched a plan of her very own. He wasn't about to turn that down and it wasn't as if that would've been the right moment to ask, so he decided it could wait, maybe for tomorrow, the next day, or next week. But then he slipped the blindfold off of her face and the way she looked at him...he had to struggle to keep from proposing to her mid-fuck and that would've been the worst way to ask. Maybe it would've made for a funny story one day, but he would've been mortified had it actually slipped out then, after he spent all day thinking over what he was going to say or do.

He stares off at the ceiling and the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut falls upon deaf ears while he debates what he wants to do. They've talked about it before and he knows what the answer will likely be, not out of arrogance, but because she's told him so. It's not like they've been in a rush, they've been together seven years and Richie asked him why he hadn't popped the question yet on year _three_ , after a while everyone probably assumed it wasn't something they wanted. But that's not the case at all, it hasn't felt like the right time until recently and now that he's making better money from publishing his books and relying on a second job too, they could have their own home if they wanted. It just feels right, now, and he hasn't been able to escape the urge to ask, so he figures that means it's time.

The worst that could happen is that she'll say she's not ready yet, which is something he can understand. Rejection of any kind is upsetting, but he knows marriage isn't the end all be all of having a relationship, plenty of couples stay together for years and never officially marry. Love isn't something with an end goal, other than being loved in return, and the fact that they're happy together is enough for him. That being said, they _have_ talked about it...

He just finished pulling a pair of pajama pants up his legs by the time she comes back out, the sound of her footsteps on the floor interrupting every nervous thought. Upon seeing how lost in thought he is, she crawls across the bed to where he sits at the edge and wraps her arms around his shoulders.

Bill smiles distantly, shoulders falling as he finally manages to exhale, and shuts his eyes at her pressing kiss after kiss to where her face is buried into the crook of his neck. She's wearing one of his shirts.

"You okay?" She murmurs, angling her head on his shoulder to get a better look at him.

The sound of her voice ignites something in him, gives him a sense of calm after a day spent ruminating over his doubts. He was nervous, but a good nervous and it doesn't mean he's not okay. In fact, there's comfort to be found in the idea of asking her and the possibility of making such a monumental decision tonight.

There's a dip of quiet between them, then, "Can we t-t-tuh-talk?"

He doesn't have to turn to look at her to tell that she's worried from that, but she nods against him anyway.

Fleetingly, against the will of every logical part of her, she wonders if he wants to break up with her, then has to tell herself that that's not true and not to assume anything. In her defense, that's how every breakup she's experienced started and he's got this look about him right now that instantly had her on alert when she walked out of the bathroom. His head was hanging a bit low, staring down at his lap, and he seemed to be thinking about something serious. With a leg bouncing anxiously and what looked like him wringing his hands in his lap, whatever it was that was on his mind must have been overwhelming him to some extent, she figured. But the breakup thought was insecurity talking and she knows that, so she goes into the conversation with a clear mind in spite of that voice in the back of her mind always telling her she's not good enough, that he, despite everything that says otherwise, isn't as in love with her as she is him. That couldn't be farther from the truth, though.

One of her hands rubs up and down the length of his back, trying to offer some sort of comfort, and the action makes him finally turn to face her. Looking her in the eye, hand still closed into a fist holding the gift, he shifts so they're face to face and the worry in her eyes makes him open his mouth to speak in a need to make it go away.

His free hand braces against the mattress as he starts, tapping the hand that holds her present against his thigh absentmindedly, "W-W-We've had a r-r-r-really great seven years together..."

 _Oh, fuck, he's breaking up with me, what the_ ** _fuck_** -Y/N can hardly breathe and her eyes are wide where they look over at his. She doesn't interrupt him, since he's clearly got something to say, but the conclusion she's ready to jump to threatens to bring tears to her eyes. At first, she thought it was the insecurity talking, but now it's really sounding like a breakup conversation and the idea of not having Bill in her life has her heart instantly breaking. And, on top of that, she'll lose her friends too because they were his friends first and of course they'd choose to stay friends with him over her-

He reaches out with his free hand, that trembles worse than it ever has, to take her's in it and pull it to rest in his lap. He's still working up the nerve.

It's funny to him that bravery was something that always came naturally to him, but now he's finding that he has to summon it rather than blindly reach for it as he always had before.

"I've been t-t-thinking about it f-for a while," his hand still shakes, but his voice doesn't, "a-a-and I wasn't gonna do this tonight, b-but it just felt right."

The tears that threatened to flood her eyes are for an entirely different reason when he opens his hand and reveals a small, square box sitting on the palm of it. Her eyes dart back and forth between him and the box before it fully registers what's happening.

He's definitely not breaking up with her.

"Y/N, I-" Bill stops for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath, and continues only when those words he practiced saying all day at work come back to him, "We've had a really great seven years together and, you kn-n-n-now, it's funny to me. I can write anything I want and you tell me I have this way with words, but I couldn't figure out how to put t-t-t-th- _this_ into words," looking at her makes him feel braver with every sentence that passes, "I guess it's actually really simple."

Her grip on his hand is so tight, neither of them would be surprised if she's cutting off his circulation, but if it bothers him, he doesn't say anything. She's not sure he even notices.

"Last week, I w-w-was-was out with Richie and we ran into someone f-from High School. We talked for a bit, except when I mentioned you, I d-didn't call you my girlfriend, I called you my wife and it s-s-stayed with me all day. W-When it came down to it, I think I kept coming back to it cause I wanted it to be t-t-true. I've loved you ever since we m-m-m-met and as soon as Eddie brought you over to meet us, I knew..."

Every thought moves at a speed too quick to process when he pauses for a final time and sets the box down in her hand, those eyes flickering back up to meet her's with an honesty to them that makes those tears that had built up in her eyes finally fall. He said he didn't know how to put what he feels into words, yet here he is making her break down into tears and she knows she'd likely be outright sobbing if he had written what to say rather than made it up on the spot. He had tried to write it, but all he could think over and over as he willed his brain to come up with something, anything, was _"We've had a really great seven years together"_. He couldn't help but get frustrated with himself because, for God's sakes, he could write a six-hundred page novel but couldn't figure out what to write to propose to the love of his life with? It took another couple of hours of working/thinking over his would-be proposal in his head before he decided he'd just abandon a plan and speak from the heart instead.

He scribbled that same sentence down about twenty times before crumbling up the paper off his notepad and shoving it into his bag in annoyance, wishing that he had more to say than a sentence.

The speech seems to have done the job well enough since she's let a couple of tears fall down her cheeks and is stunned to silence, though.

Leading with what he came up with helped get it out, but he need not say more than what he wrote because, in truth, that was all that needed to be said. The time they've spent together has been something he'll cherish forever and, for the purest of reasons, he wants to marry her for that.

Hand slipping off from where he'd put the ring box down on her palm, he swallows nervously and asks after a beat of silence, "Will you m-marry me?"

That entire conversation, though it was more him talking and her listening, hanging off of every word, took her for a ride. After building up what they were to talk about to a breakup in her head, she was already getting emotional, but emotional doesn't begin to describe how she felt the second he revealed the box to her and began to speak. Whatever feeling it was-love, happiness, nervousness, excitement-it was beyond how she'd ever previously felt it. The fact that she thought he was going to end their relationship and he ended up asking her to be with him forever-

It takes a second for her to respond through the shock, but he barely has time to prepare before she's throwing her arms around him.

"Yes!" Y/N exclaims, not letting him get another word in, then she kisses him with an enthusiasm he hadn't expected her to have after such a strenuous activity.

They get a little lost in that kiss, get caught up in the moment and let it last longer than it normally would, but their smiles are brighter than ever when they pull away and he reaches down to grab the box from her. Her heart is pounding as he slips the ring onto her finger, smile never once leaving his face, and she stares between where the ring sits on her hand, then back to him in disbelief.

What she and Bill have has always felt permanent, in a way, but it would be a lie if she said she saw that coming.

He explained that he planned to do it as soon as he came home, that there were some flowers and a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter he had the intention of surprising her with before walking into their bedroom to find her there. But after it was over and she was lying beside him, he felt the words that went unsaid all day lingering in the peaceful silence. No matter what, every glance or brush of his hands on her felt like it was too much, like he'd have to look away or stop touching her to keep the confession from coming out. It was when she stood to go to the bathroom and he reached out for her hand on instinct that he decided that it was meant to happen tonight. There had been far too many times where he almost blurted it out and other moments during the day that he spent fiddling with that box in his pocket to the point of obsession, murmuring different variations of the same question under his breath.

The day he first got the idea planted in his head from that conversation while he was out with Richie, he tried not to get too worked up over it. It was only as the week progressed and his thoughts became unavoidable that he began to feel the pressing need to ask it. He started to look at the rings she'd wear casually in an attempt to get a better grip on what she might like and even asked Bev for a second opinion when he found one, making it clear that the secret was to stay between them for the time being. She ended up agreeing with him on the one he chose and he got it around lunchtime, put it in his pants pocket, and proceeded to count down the seconds to when he could get home for the duration of the day.

That conversation he had with Beverly the day before had been immensely helpful for him.

At that point in the week, he was nervous, starting to lose his mind, and desperately needed the guidance she's always proved to be capable of providing. He may be their "leader", the one they always look to, but he needs guidance too and Y/N's that person for him. But this was something he couldn't talk to her about yet, so their friend was who he instantly thought to go to with such a serious decision. At first, her reaction had been one he'd expect from every one of the losers. She was shocked, but excited and said something about them "finnnnnally" making it official, since they were all but married anyway. Yet then, her excitement gave way to curiosity and they got to talking about it for real. He ended up pouring his heart out to her, so many built up feelings about the topic coming out all at once, and it was cathartic. It felt good to work through it all, saying what he's felt for so long aloud helped silence his doubts.

That was one of the things that made it easier on him when he ended up laying all of his cards on the table and asking her, no more holding back and second guessing, which ended better than he could've asked.

For the rest of the night, they stayed up cuddling and talking to one another until they were so tired, they could barely keep their eyes open. It was all soft-spoken words, kisses, and laughter for the rest of the night and only when Eddie came home were they reminded that the outside world does, in fact, still exist. No holiday decorations went up, that plan needed to be pushed to the following afternoon, but they were too excited with what happened to even want to leave their room. He was looking over at her in wonder as she slept, tracing his fingertips up her back, by the time he managed to finally nod off.

Y/N wakes in the morning after he's left.

The light that shines in through the gap in the curtains shines down on her face and she's smiling tiredly against the pillow as the memory of the previous night comes back to her. All they'd said and done and felt, it almost doesn't feel real looking back in it, but it surely did happen, right? A confirming glance at her left hand ends up doing the trick, partially because that's where the ring sits on her finger, but also cause that's where bruises sit in the shape of his hands around her wrist.

Payback for the rope marks, of course.

But then, her hand falls on his side of the bed, as if searching for him in his absence, and lands on a piece of paper.

The morning was difficult for him. They both would have to go to work, but being the one to leave first was hard. She would wake up and get ready as normal, rushing to run a brush through her hair or get a quick layer of concealer under her eyes to avoid looking like she spent the entire night up with him, yet he couldn't stray too far from where she was laying in bed before the urge to come back would hit. As he showered, he kept wishing she were there and as he got dressed, he couldn't help the way his eyes would glance back to her sleeping form, like he couldn't get enough of her. Most of his morning was spent keeping near her and the rest was spent wishing he were still with her, tucked into her arms, sound asleep. The entire preceding night still felt like a dream and he wondered if it really happened, but then a confirming glance at where her left hand was resting on the pillow beside her face ended up doing the trick.

That was when he stopped and went to get something. The floorboards were quiet, surprisingly, under his socked feet and the backpack sitting at the door unzipped not as quietly in his search for what he left behind yesterday. None of this ended up waking her and Bill gave her a kiss on the cheek as a goodbye, left about an hour before she woke up for the day.

A small bouquet of flowers and cup of coffee sits on the bedside table for her, as well as a piece of paper on his side of the bed that's scribbled on with his handwriting. Her lips curl up in a soft smile.

_We've had a really great seven years together...so here's to many more._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a kudos and/or comment to let me know if you enjoyed it :)


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